


A Broken Heart

by alynwa



Series: The Great Episode Challenge [6]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4159668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Challenge #2:<br/>Also from season two, “The Ultimate Computer Affair,” introduced us to Sara aka “Sweetie Pie” as Napoleon called her, prompting Mr. Waverly to refer to her as “Agent Sweetie Pie.”  She’s been in the Secret Map Room with Napoleon at least once and he seems intent on luring her back there.  The challenge is: Why was she resisting?</p>
    </blockquote>





	A Broken Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge #2:  
> Also from season two, “The Ultimate Computer Affair,” introduced us to Sara aka “Sweetie Pie” as Napoleon called her, prompting Mr. Waverly to refer to her as “Agent Sweetie Pie.” She’s been in the Secret Map Room with Napoleon at least once and he seems intent on luring her back there. The challenge is: Why was she resisting?

Sara was eating lunch with three of the girls from Human Resources. It was Monday afternoon and the Commissary was fairly empty. She had been waiting and wanting to tell the girls about her weekend.

“Alright, Sara,” Lynda said before pushing her plate away and putting her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, “Spill. You’ve been sitting there grinning for half an hour! How was your date with Napoleon?”

“Yes, Sara, tell us!” Colette chimed in, “You look like you’re going to burst!”

“Well, you _could_ kind of say our date started on Friday when he pulled me into the Map Room…”

Her tablemates squealed in delight. “And, how long were you in there?” Lynda asked.

Sara blushed. “A while,” she admitted. “Napoleon is so gallant, he made me feel like the most desirable woman on the planet!”

The three other women at the table looked at each other and then back at Sara. “Yes, he does have that talent,” Lisette agreed, “Where did he take you Saturday?”

“First, we had dinner at Sardi’s and then went dancing at the Top of the Sixes. I’d never been to either place before and there’s nothing even _close_ to those places back home! Dancing with Napoleon was the most wonderful time of my life! I think, I think…” she trailed off as she lost herself in thought.

Lynda poked her. “You think _what_? Come back to earth!”

“Oh, sorry. I think Napoleon is the One!”

All three women froze in stunned shock and silence. They stared at Sara like she had suddenly grown a second head. Lisette’s tongue loosened first. “ _What?”_

“I’m going to marry that man!”

Lynda continued to gape. “Are you out of your _mind_?”

Sara took another sip of her lemonade. “Not _now_ , of course; after all, I _do_ know Section IIs can’t marry. But he won’t be a Section II forever and when that time comes…”

Colette reached over and took Sara’s hand in both of hers. “Sara, I don’t know what’s going on in that innocent, pretty head of yours, but if you really think that _Napoleon,_ of all people, is in love with you…You are so sadly mistaken.” She patted the younger woman’s hand in a “You poor dear, bless your heart” kind of way.

Snatching her hand back, Sara hissed, “You don’t know that! A man doesn’t say the kind of things he said to me if he’s not interested. Really interested! You’re just jealous!”

Lynda, Colette and Lisette all giggled at that and then Lisette said, “I think I speak for all of us when I tell you we might be a little bit jealous, but not for the reason you’re thinking. We _all_ dated Napoleon in the past, we’ve all heard the ‘sweet nothings’ he says, but the difference between you and us is: We know that’s all it is, sweet nothings. You’ll get your feelings hurt if you take it for anything else. Trust me.”

Sara grinned confidently. “I’m trusting _me._ Sorry, girls. He’s crazy about me. You’ll see.” She checked her pendant watch. “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that, she got up to head back to Communications.

Her lunch companions watched her leave and then sighed as one. Lynda turned back around and opined, “That girl is in for a rude awakening.”

Napoleon was in one of the meeting rooms waiting for a progress report from Chacua. Illya was there and the plan was for him to “assault” an UNCLE agent posing as a rich local, get arrested and hopefully, find out the whereabouts of THRUSH’s Ultimate Computer. He heard the pneumatic door slide open and seconds later, an arm came around him with a paper in the hand and a familiar voice intoned, “Theodore’s report from Chacua.”

“Sara! You’re devastating and I’m mad about you!”

“Oh, you’re not getting me anywhere near that secret Map Room! Read.” She could have sworn her heart fluttered an extra beat. Truth be told, his ramblings about where THRUSH would hide something was going over her head, but she didn’t care. She knew Napoleon was in love with her, or falling anyway, and she was feeling the same way. They continued their canoodling until Mr. Waverly entered the room. She was embarrassed that he had heard Napoleon refer to her as “Sugar Pie” and was glad to leave the room to fetch what he wanted.

She found out later on that day that Napoleon had been dispatched to Chacua to assist the Russian in his mission to destroy the Ultimate Computer. The two agents returned to New York almost two weeks later. She was ecstatic to see him in the Commissary buying coffee early one morning. “Napoleon! You’re back! Welcome home!”

Napoleon was tired; he and Illya had arrived at JFK on the redeye from Caracas and they had gotten to HQ at eight AM with the intention of completing their written reports quickly in hopes of mollifying The Old Man who was annoyed that they could not acquire the Ultimate Computer. At the sound of Sara’s voice, he had pasted a smile on his face that he wasn’t really feeling. “How are you, Sara? It’s good to see your lovely face.”

“I’m happy you think so. Maybe we can meet up for drinks later. I mean, if you want to.”

Napoleon perked up when she said that; Salty had left him high and dry just when he was needing a physical release. “I think I would like that, Sara. I’ll pick you up at seven. I’m not quite up for dancing, but dinner at Mama Leone’s would be nice.”

“It would, I’d love that! See you at seven.”

Sara practically floated through the rest of her day. She got off work at five and headed straight home and started to prepare for her date. She put on the dress she had bought at Korvette’s and the new heels and pocketbook she had gotten at A&S. Looking herself over in the mirror, she noted how spectacularly she was wearing her outfit and knew she was going to knock Napoleon’s socks off. She ate a small snack because she didn’t want to appear too greedy or piggish in front of him.

Promptly at seven, her doorbell rang and when she opened it, there he stood in all his sartorial splendor. She noted for what seemed the millionth time how well he wore a suit. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself. Are you ready to go?”

Dinner at Mama Leone’s was wonderful. Napoleon, though slightly jetlagged, was a perfect date; witty, attentive and congenial. After dinner, they walked around the City briefly until Napoleon suggested he take her home. When they got to her door, she unlocked it and then turned around and placed her hand in his chest to stop him. “I know we’ve only seen each other a few times, Napoleon, but I’m not the kind of girl who just ‘puts out.’ I need a commitment.”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Commitment,” he repeated, “From a Section II?”

“You won’t always be Section II, you only have a few more years in the field. Besides, you know you want it, too. Otherwise, why would you tell me you were mad about me?”

Napoleon shrugged and stepped away from her. “I owe you an apology. I _do_ like you, don’t get me wrong, but you seem to have given my words more weight than they had. I am in no position to offer a commitment and I don’t _want_ to offer one. I’m only looking for a good time. I thought you were, too. I can’t be who you want me to be, Sara. I’m sorry, but this is our last date. Goodnight.” He walked away while she stood by her door with her mouth gaping open in disbelief.

She thought back to that lunch with the girls. _They knew! And I didn’t believe them!_ She let herself into her apartment and looked around. _I can’t face them! I’ll never be able to live it down!_ On the edge of hysteria, she groped for her phone and dialed a number. “Mama! Mama, I’ve had enough, I’m coming home. Tomorrow. Nevermind. I’ll see you soon.” She hung up, wiped the tears from her eyes and went into her bedroom to pack. _I am never coming back to New York or UNCLE again!_

The next morning, Napoleon and Illya strolled into the Commissary to get coffee. He looked around the room, saw Lisa Rogers sitting alone and waved in greeting. She waved back and said, “Agent Solo, might I have a word with you?”

He came to her and noted the serious look in her eyes. He called out to his partner that he would meet him back in their office and then pulled up a chair. “What can I do for you, Lisa?”

“I received a phone call at home last night from Sara Franks in Communications. She was crying hysterically and I could barely understand her. What I _did_ understand was she was quitting effective immediately and that you had something to do with it.” She held up her hand when she saw him about to speak. “Normally, Napoleon, I stay out of the private lives of my staff and I certainly try to stay out of _your_ private life, but I cannot let this slide. Because of you, UNCLE has lost a valuable asset; Sara speaks five languages fluently. I now have to juggle schedules to make sure those languages are covered on her shift.” She glared at him. “I am not happy, Napoleon, and when I meet with Mr. Waverly later, he’s going to know why.” She shook her head in disgust and left him sitting there.

After a few minutes, he got up, bought a large coffee and returned to his office. Illya was sitting with those ugly glasses perched on his nose reading the minutes from the last Section II meeting. Napoleon sat heavily in his chair and sipped his coffee absentmindedly, lost in thought. Illya glanced up and seeing his face, asked him, “Is everything alright, Napoleon? You look distracted.”

“Lisa Rogers just chewed me out for causing Sara Franks to quit.”

Illya frowned and removed his glasses to stare at his partner. “How did you do that? What did you do to her?”

The senior agent winced. “Well, ah, it appears that ah, she thought that I was more serious about her than I was and she let her feelings run away with her. She wanted a commitment from me and I told her that wasn’t possible. I had to tell her I couldn’t see her anymore.”

“Oh, Napoleon. Will you never learn? Sara was, how do you Americans so quaintly put it? Fresh off the farm? What did you _say_ to her?”

“No more than I say to any young lady; she just took it all to heart. That’s not the worst of it: Lisa told me she’s bringing the matter to Mr. Waverly’s attention.”

“ _Chyort.”_

“My sentiments exactly.”

Two hours later, the CEA was summoned to Mr. Waverly’s office. He walked past a stern looking Lisa Rogers and into the Old Man’s office. He sat in his usual seat and folded his hands in front of him like a naughty schoolboy summoned to the principal’s office. Mr. Waverly sat with his back to him, tamping tobacco into his Woodstock pipe. He took his time, knowing that his agent was nervous.

Finally, he turned around and reaching for his matches, he glared at Napoleon as he lit one and began to light his pipe. “What is this nonsense Miss Rogers is telling me about you breaking the heart of one of our communications specialists?”

“Ah, Sir, Miss Franks thought I had stronger feelings for her than I do. From what Miss Rogers said, the realization of that caused her to ah, leave.”

“Mr. Solo, I have turned a blind eye to your running through the female staff like a bull in a china shop, but I find this outrageous.”

“Sir, it was not my intention to hurt her feelings…”

“But you did, Mr. Solo. You did. And because you did, UNCLE NY lost a valuable employee. I won’t give in to my original impulse which was to ban you from dating anyone associated with UNCLE, but I _will_ tell you this: If there is a repeat of this fiasco, there will be consequences. Real consequences. Am I making myself clear?”

Napoleon swallowed noisily. “Yes, Sir,” he said contritely, “Rest assured this will not happen again.”

“I will hold you to that, Mr. Solo. Dismissed.”

Napoleon returned to his office feeling completely humiliated. As usual, the UNCLE grapevine had spread the fact that Sara Franks had resigned and the rumor that the reason was she was pregnant with Napoleon’s baby. He refused to comment when asked by agents and support staff alike and entered his office wishing he could sink into the floor.

Illya looked up, glasses back in place and asked, “Have you learned _anything,_ Napoleon?”

Nodding, he picked up a mission report to review. “Yes. I need to date a worldly woman from now on.”

“Good luck with that.”


End file.
